With our wedding coming up, Jo and I have decided to try not to completely go to seed and sign up for the St Albans Half in June (although haven't actually plucked up the courage to do it yet), so I thought I ought to get out this morning and see what's in the running tank. It wasn't too bad in the end and I managed a reasonably respectable 8.31 minute/mile pace over 5.5 miles. Funnily enough, I've hardly done any running since the Hastings Half, preferring to cycle or go to the gym. But, as any running magazine will tell you, you've got to get your miles in, so I'll have to get out a bit more between now and June.

Patrick Stewart as Locutus, the assimilated Jean-Luc Picard (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am a self-confessed MAMIL and tonight my planned evening cycle jaunt around Hertfordshire turned into a man-hunt by a plimsolled Borg*. How did this happen?

Well, this evening, we had what was probably the first Spring/Summer evening; the kind that's warm and light enough to get out and about. So after my mile-long ride back from the station, I decided to don my SPD shoes, helmet, cycling shorts, base layer and wind-cheater - the whole Middle-Aged-Man-In-Lycra-All-The-Gear-And-No-Idea look going on - and go for a quick blast.

Heading out of Welwyn I'm riding up the Digswell hill and look over my shoulder. There's a lad riding a mountain bike behind me. Isn't that the bike I saw leant against the Cowper Arms? He's got a wriggle on to catch up so quickly.

I cycle on.

I then take another peak over my shoulder. He's still there, about 10 metres behind. I take a longer look: 18-20 years old, cotton t-shirt, white plimsoll trainers (maybe All Stars) and an ambling "I've got all the time in the world" cycling style. I think he's gaining on me.

Time to ride harder up the hill.

Look over my shoulder. He's gone.

Come up to Harmer Green. Round the tight bend. The little sod has caught me up and cycled straight across the grass.

I. Have. To. Overtake. Him.

I take him as he crosses over to the cycle path. I'm properly sweating now.

Cycle on. Harder still. High gear. Peddling hard. Zoom through Burnham Green. Can't keep this up for too long. Look behind.

He's still there! Just 10 metres or so behind.What do they feed plimsolled Borgs - Ready Brek with nails in?

Approaching Burnham Green. Will turn right. Damn, got to slow for traffic. Turn. He's right behind me. Blank expression. I'm about to be assimilated.

RIght, can make up some pace now. Bit of a downhill. I've got thinner tyres, should open up a gap.

Daren't look behind me.

Cycle on approaching Bramfield. Legs burning. Take a sneaky peak. The plimsoled Borg's still there.

Think it's my turn coming up. Take it. Balls, it's a dead-end - I turned off to early. I look over my shoulder...

Just the sight of a sleepy middle class village. The plimsoled Borg is off to find another victim.

I stand there hung over my handlebars panting, water pouring out of the sleeves of my wind-cheater, contemplating a slightly more relaxed ride back to Welwyn. I am the embodiment of a MAMIL. But I live to ride again.

* If you don't know what I Borg is, it's unlikely you've got this far. But just in case you don't and you have, it's a zombie crossed with a cyborg from Star Trek. Hence the picture.

So after the fun of Budapet to Krakow, Barmouth to Yarmouth and Coasts and Castles, this year's cycle tour involves riding from Bournmouth pier to Brighton pier: via the Isle of Wight. Don't ask me who came up with such a crazy route, but it kind of makes sense.

Today is the easy day, basically getting a train to London, cycling across from Kings Cross to Waterloo (I don't think Jo's looking forward to that bit), and jumping on the train to Bournemouth, where we'll meet up with the rest of the group (about 13-14 of us).

Mental note for tonight. Must. Not. Go. Silly. On. The. Booze.

Right, ready to go, we're oscar mike. Keep up on the ride via Twitter with the hashtag #pier2pier

It’s official: ski holidays and training for half marathons don’t mix. These past few years I’ve been on an early March ski holiday, only to have a week or two left for training before running a half marathon, usually Reading or Hastings.

I usually convince myself that a whole day’s skiing for six days running is great for leg strength and is way healthier than being sat as a desk. Only there’s a hitch. Skiing works up a massive appetite and I end up eating tons of things like this…  

….and cheese and puddings and loads of pizza and more cheese and waffles, along with snacks on the slopes like nuts, chocolate bars, the odd hot chocolate and vin chaud.

And then there's the wine and beer. You get the idea. So, it's no surprise, that I put on three pounds while I was away. Oh and my body still thinks it needs all that food despite being back at my desk.

Not exactly the best training for the Team Steam Extreme Ironing Challenge this weekend then...

I've been checking out some running stats from the Garmin. This morning, we did a 10.7 mile run around Welwyn, which I was happy with. The total elevation gain was 331ft. The Hastings Half, in a few weeks time, has an elevation gain of 1,347ft. Just when I was starting to feel happy about the training....ah well.

Oh and I'll be carrying an ironing board...

It's just a month to the Hastings Half Marathon and I'm starting to feel a bit nervous about the extreme ironing element of the Team Steam challenge - essentially carrying an ironing board for 13.1 miles of one of the hilliest half marathons. 

Training wise, Jo and I have been doing ok. We've done a couple of 9 mile runs and a 10 miler last weekend, so I'm more prepared than previous half marathons. But there are two elements that the preparation is a bit short: running up hills and carrying an ironing board. 

So this weekend, I ran a short 4 miler near where I live and was happy with the average pace of 8.30 minute/miles. Today's run around Hastings was less speedy, coming in at 10 minute miles. I have to say, the Ecclesbourne Glen run is a real tough one - in fact, I've never managed to run the whole thing, it's so darn steep. 

Anyway, enough excuses, more hill training needed. And I better get that board out too...